How's It Gonna Be
by Ali989969
Summary: Sookie and Eric have a rocky marriage. Things look dire until they come up with a unique way to resolve their differences. Prequel to chapter 11 of Friday Night Blues by MissyDee. A/H O/S


**A/N: This is another story that's been lurking in my head. Another Third Eye Blind song that got me to write a couple of pages, when I stopped because I didn't know where I wanted to go. MissyDee and I wrote chapter 11 of her "Friday Night Blues" together and this is a prequel to that chapter. If you've read FNB, you know that it's completely NSFW, so that warning goes with this also. Enjoy!**

"I know what I fucking saw and that was not an 'innocent hug'! All the time! If it isn't Sam, it's Bill, or Alcide. They swarm around you like... fuck, I don't know like what. You really expect me to believe that you don't have anything with them on the side?"

He's screaming at me and raking his long fingers though his hair, pacing. His blue eyes are crazed, and I know I can't look much more in control.

"Well, what about you, Eric, huh? All those 'after hour meetings' you have to do with Felicia and Isabelle? You're telling me that nothing has ever happened during those long dull hours of putting together 'presentations'?" I use finger quotes because that's one of his pet peeves and I just want to piss him off a little bit.

I hate that this has become us. We were so close just a few months ago. Newlyweds in our honeymoon stage. He got a promotion in the advertising agency he works for, handling some top accounts shortly after we got back from Jamaica. A few weeks later, I got my own property to manage and handle all on my own. Things were so good.

Now all we can do is fight. He has to work long hours with the other executives handling the same accounts, putting together presentations for the different companies. I know there is no way that they have so many accounts that he has to have meetings after business hours with the supermodel-turned-marketing-dynamos Isabelle Banks and Felicia Gamble three or four times a week. He was able to bring that stuff home before now.

I don't know how he can accuse me of having any kind of "thing on the side" with my friends. Alcide is the head of maintenance and comes through the rental office multiple times a day. Bill is the head leasing agent and passes through all the time. Sam is one of the groundskeepers, and, again, I see him a lot. We all work together. It would be silly to spend so much time in such close quarters and not become friends. But Eric just can't comprehend the concept of men and women being able to be friends without there being something else. He doesn't understand the term "platonic".

"You know that there is nothing going on between me and the girls. For God's sake, Sookie, they're gay! They're together. They wear fucking wedding rings. They have no interest in me whatsoever."

My eyes pop wide in surprise. "Oh, so the attraction is all on your side? Think that if they might want to add a guy into the mix, you'll be the one they call?"

His eyes narrow. "Don't fucking twist my words, Sookie. You know damn well that isn't what I meant," he growls. "You're the one staying up late making cakes and casseroles and fucking pot roast for those guys you 'work with'," he sneers, using my finger-quotes against me, "And I haven't had a homemade meal in what feels like weeks!"

I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. "One, you have fucking hands. If you want a homemade meal, get off your ass and make one. Two, I never know if or when you're going to be home, so why go to the effort for a meal that may or may not be wasted?"

We're still yelling and pacing around each other and not getting anywhere close to resolving anything. Usually, when we start the night like this, we end up having angry, hot as fuck, need-to-spackle-the-drywall-afterward sex and forget that we haven't solved anything. I can already tell that tonight isn't going to end like that.

"You know what, Sookie, you're right. I have legs and arms and they work just fine. In fact, let me put them to use now." His voice is quiet now, and I know that means I've gone too far. When he's mad, he's loud, but when he gets quiet, he's beyond angry. He doesn't get quiet often, but I've seen it before. I've never had the quiet directed at me, though.

He heads down the hall to our bedroom and slams the door behind him. I flop onto the couch and try to get my temper back under control, so I don't hear my pulse in my head anymore and I'm able to unclench my hands from the fists they've balled into at my sides. I hear the bedroom door open and his footsteps coming down the hall.

He has a duffel bag in one hand and a garment bag over his shoulder. "I can't do this anymore. I won't. The fighting, the yelling... I just... can't." His voice is beyond the yelling, beyond the quiet rage. He sounds numb. Without another word, he walks out the door.

I stare at the door as it closes behind him and can't find it in me to stop him. I don't run after him. I don't cry out for him to stay with me. I don't try to apologize. I watch him walk off the porch without a pause or a look back, get in his car, and drive away.

I don't feel anything as I walk back into our (my?) bedroom. I silently and unemotionally change into pajamas before I lay down in the bed. I realize quickly that there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep in this bed alone. It's too big by myself. I grab my pillows and a quilt and head back out to the couch. I flip the TV to a music channel and close my eyes.

I dress in a daze for work the next day. One of the perks of my job is living on the property rent free, so I can walk right down to the leasing office. Sam waves to me from where he's working on some shrubbery around the clubhouse and I flip my hand up to acknowledge that I've seen him, but I don't stop to chat like I normally would.

I get to my desk, stow my pocketbook and pull up my Outlook calendar to see if I have any appointments set for today. A lot of our business comes from walk-ins, but every now and them, people set up a planned showing. As if on cue, as soon as my calendar pops up on the screen, Bill Compton walks in. Since I'm on salary from the property management agency, Bill is the actual agent that takes prospective residents out for showings and processes the rental applications. I run the credit checks and make the ultimate decision, but he's the front man who makes the commission.

"How are you this morning, Sookeh? If you don't mind me saying, you look a little under the weather. Are you feeling okay?" he asks and leans against my desk, looking at me with concern.

Normally, I have no problem with how he pronounces my name. Hell, I have my own drawl on certain words. But I can't take his phony, down-home accent today. I try to play off my irritation. "Why, Bill, a gentleman would _never _tell a woman she appears less than beautiful. I'm disappointed." I try to smile. I'm sure it comes off more as a grimace.

He looks at me with widened eyes. "Sookeh, I apologize. Do we have anyone scheduled for showings today?"I look through Outlook and nod. Fridays are always our busiest days. "We have appointments at noon, one thirty, three thirty, and four." Since the showing and paperwork usually takes about an hour, I know I'll be doing at least one of the showings. The last thing I want to do is put on my happy, people-person face today, but I have to do what I have to do.

I make it through the day and I take the three-thirty showing for Bill since he got held up by the one-thirty appointment running late and being ultra-inquisitive. By the time everything with that appointment is done, it's almost five and time to close the front office, but I can't do that until Bill is finished with his four o'clock showing, so I work on shutting down the computer applications. Alcide comes in to get a bottle of water and leans against the wall by my desk.

"You look a little down, _cher_. Why not come out and hit Montano's with me and Bill? Have a few drinks, let your hair down. Maybe Eric can meet us there later."

I force a smile. "Umm, no, Eric won't want to meet us. I'm sure he's too busy. Let's just wait for Bill to finish his showing. If you can give me a few minutes to run and change, I'll go with you." Why the hell should I punish myself? _He _walked out on _me_. I verify that Alcide has his keys to the office and I run up to my condo to change out of my business suit and into my jeans and a halter top. I freshen up my makeup in record time and brush out my hair, leaving it down. It's a little trickier walking in the heels that I'm now wearing, but at least I look better than I feel. A night out is just what the doctor called for.

I decide to ride with Bill since he lives in the same complex. Alcide follows Bill and I to the club and we take seats around the bar. Eric is more of a homebody, so we didn't go out all that much after we started living together. I forgot how much fun it could be to go out for a few drinks and dancing.

I hit the dance floor with Alcide and am impressed by how well a guy of his size moves. He spins me around and I face the door. Fucking hell.

Eric walks in between Felicia and Isabelle and freezes. On the plus side, he looks as miserable and as sleep deprived as I feel. On the down side, Isabelle is clinging to his right arm while Felicia is wrapped around his left. They skid a little in their heels with how suddenly he stops and look up at him for the reason. Felicia follows his eyes and sees me. She starts to smile and wave before she realizes the expression on his face is not a happy one.

I leave the dance floor and return to the bar, making a conscious decision not to turn around and look for him. I order a gin and tonic, needing something stronger than the white wine I had been sipping. Both Bill and Alcide look at me with questions in their eyes, but I just shake my head.

My night out turns out to be a bust and I just want to go home and curl up on the couch in a ball under my quilt. Bill drives me home and I'm grateful that he stays quiet and doesn't mention the awkwardness of me avoiding my husband completely. I give him a small, quick kiss on the cheek before I exit the car. My plans for the rest of the night include nothing more than comfy pajamas and _The Notebook_, with Karamel Sutra and a box of Kleenex keeping me company.

My cell phone taunts me from the end table where it's plugged into the charger. I miss him. I don't miss the fighting. I don't miss the crazy accusations that I just reinforced by going out with two of the very coworkers that he is suspicious of. But I miss _him _like crazy. But my fucking pride keeps my sniffly ass on the couch as I watch Noah and Allie make every mistake they can before finding their way back to each other.

Once the movie ends, I blow my nose and wipe my cheeks one last time and start turning lights off so I can go to bed. I sigh, knowing that I'll be sleeping on the couch for awhile. The California king in our bedroom feels all kinds of wrong without his weight at my side. I set the alarm on my phone and flip off the lamp.

I don't hear from him for a week. Every night after work, I head home and make myself dinner alone and turn into a vegetable in front of the television. I can't even really remember what we did before the fighting started. I _do _know that we didn't watch a lot of television. I remember a lot of very good times in our bedroom. And the kitchen. And the back deck with its privacy fence. And in all kinds of configurations on the couch that is now my bed.

Between _30 Rock _and _The Office_, the doorbell rings. I'm not expecting anyone, but I pull my lazy ass off the sofa anyway and open the door without checking the peephole. My eyes widen in surprise to see Eric on my porch. He's not in his suit, like he would be if he just left work. He's also not wearing the usual jeans and a t-shirt that he lives in outside of the office. He's wearing a blue and red polo shirt and black slacks. Then the smell hits me. Garlic, cheese, and pepperoni. Mmmm. No, bad Sookie. Stay strong. It takes more than deep dish goodness to make you back down.

"Eric, I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish, but unless that pizza comes with an apology, you can just head back to Domino's."

His brow furrows in confusion. "Eric? Ma'am, my name is 'Ryan'." He points to the embroidered name on his chest. "I must say though, that if this 'Eric' fellow is in the dog house with someone as beautiful as you, than he is a very stupid man."

I roll my eyes, thinking this is a _very stupid_ way for him to apologize, but am willing to give him a chance. "Well, come on in, _Ryan_. Unfortunately, I didn't order a pizza, so I hope you didn't waste a trip."

He follows me in, eyefucking me like he did when we first met. "Ma'am, meeting you is worth the trip, wasted or not. The pizza's already been paid for. I just need to collect my tip."

I spin around on him, hand on my hip. "Stop with the 'ma'am' shit. And what makes you think you deserve a tip?"

He grabs my hips and pulls me into him. "Because I plan on showing you mind-blowingly good... _service_," he growls against my neck before claiming my mouth in a blistering kiss like I haven't felt in _so _long. My arms go around his neck as I stand on my toes to reach him better.

His hands slide back to my ass and lift me up easily. My legs wrap around his waist - force of habit - and get lost in the taste of his tongue in my mouth. I feel his erection against my core and I press myself to him tighter, grinding my hips against his. We moan at the same time and even though I know we have issues we need to work on, reacquainting myself with his body is higher on my priority list right now.

He carries me across the living room and practically slams my back into the wall. One hand cradles my butt and the other sneaks under his old football jersey that I use as a nightgown. His large, hot palm cups my breast, weighing it, squeezing it, before pinching and tweaking my nipple so hard it borders on pain, but so good. I groan into his mouth and arch my back into him. He switches hands and releases my mouth, kissing and nipping his way from my earlobe down my neck until the collar of my sleep shirt prevents him from venturing lower.

He lowers my legs to the floor and grabs the hem of the jersey, pulling me toward the couch. He hurriedly sheds himself of the hideous polo and my hands are drawn like magnets to the chiseled perfection that is his chest. Bending, he slides his hands up my body, starting at my knees, pulling the mesh material up as they travel. He dips his head once he throws the jersey across the room and laves my nipples before closing his lips around one and sucking. I choke a little at how good it feel and lace my finger into his hair so he doesn't move. He switches sides, not picking favorites, before declaring a tie and moving lower still.

He peppers kisses over my tummy, making me giggle since I'm ticklish. He reaches my little satin bikinis and growls again. "These need to go," he mumbles and yanks the waistband with his teeth. OH! The ripped material falls to the floor and he situates me on the couch, kneeling between my legs.

He nips at my thighs and hips, making me squirm. "Mmm," he hums against my skin and spreads me open. His warm tongue does nothing but make me hotter as he takes a long swipe through my folds. My eyes close as my head falls back, but my hands never leave his head, keeping him right where I want him.

"Look at me," he demands, and my eyes pop open. My baby blues are glued to his as he fucks me with his mouth. His tongue pushes into me and practically vibrates before he nibbles his way up to my clit. I fight to keep my eyes open as he suckles my bundle. Knowing my body as well as he does, he gets me to the very edge with his mouth alone, but pushes me over when he twists two long fingers into me.

My back arches off the couch and I scream my release, coming all over his face and he cleans me gently with his tongue. I come down, shaking with aftershocks, and he stands. Silently, slowly, he removes the slacks and locks eyes with me. I watch as he strokes his already hard cock and shiver just a little. "Turn around," he says, helping me to my feet and turns me around so I'm kneeling on the cushions and leaning against the back. He slides his erection down the crack of my ass and through my folds, coating himself in my wetness. Lining up with my opening, he pushes into me just a little.

He keeps his thrusts slow and shallow, just teasing me with his head. Every time I try to back into him and take him deeper, her pulls further away. I'm panting in frustration, but I'm not about to beg. Just before my will breaks, he grabs my hips and drives into me hard and deep. _Thank you!_ With his hips flush against my ass, he stills. One hand runs up my side to squeeze my breast; the other strokes my cheek before holding me in place against him with slight pressure on my neck.

Immobilized like I am, the loss of control is exhilarating. He holds me so tight while he fucks me, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. My second orgasm sneaks up on both of us and I almost cry with the power of the pleasure waves crashing over me. My eyes roll as he keeps going, grunting partial sentiments. "Fuck, Sookie... Jesus... Your pussy is so Goddamned perfect... Come for me again, pretty girl..."

His growly voice combined with his magic cock drive me right into another release and he follows right after. He lets me go and I collapse against the back of the couch, sweaty and exhausted. I hear rustling behind me and Eric is already back in the Domino's uniform. "Enjoy your dinner, ma'am," he says softly before walking out the door.

I'm too stunned to do anything but look at the closed door and wonder "What the fuck was that?" I start getting feeling back in my extremities and make my way back to the bedroom. I pull on a fresh pair of panties and grab the discarded jersey on the way back to the couch. Still dazed and exhausted from my meeting with "Ryan", I curl up in a ball under my quilt and try to figure out just what had happened.

I hear a key turn in the deadbolt on the door and Eric walks in, wearing his jeans and a gray t-shirt that looks entirely too good on him. He smiles softly in my direction before heading to the kitchen. He brings out a couple of plates of pizza and some bottles of beer, and sits next to me on the couch.

"Sook, I'm sorry, baby. We both have tempers, I know this. I still didn't mean to leave like that. Do you forgive me?"

I look at his gorgeous face and see nothing but sincerity. I know he is honestly apologetic for the past week, but it doesn't change the fact that it happened. I turn to him and we spend the rest of the evening talking about our issues and getting things that have needed to be said for a long time out on the table. Right before we get ready to head back to bed, I have to ask. "So what was the deal with 'Ryan'?"

He chuckled. "You know we have amazing angry sex. That crack in the wall that we had to cover with the bookshelf last month is proof of that. I thought you might be too mad at _ME_-me to let me in, so I figured we could do a little role-play. Did you not like it?"

I shook my head. "No, I really, really liked it. It was just... different. I never expected that from you."

His arms wrapped me in a hug before he swept me up in his arms and carried me into our room. "I liked it too. Keep some ideas in mind for the next long weekend we have."

Weeks and months pass. Since we got the issues out, things seem to be easier at home. But before too long, the same issues reappear. My friendliness with male co-workers; his long hours with stunning female co-workers. Each of us feeling unappreciated by the other. We have another screaming blow-out, only this time I take off to spend the night with my brother. I call him on the drive and he greets me on his porch, waiting up to let me in.

He carries my bag to the guest room in his house and leaves me be. I turn my phone off to lessen the temptation to call Eric and curl up on the little double bed that is just big enough for me to not feel lonely. When I wake up, Jason hands me a mug of coffee. "Want to talk about it?"

I shake my head and silently sip my joe. Before I head up to get dressed, I kiss his cheek in talks for his support. I make the drive and park by the lease office instead of my condo like usual. It doesn't go unnoticed, but Alcide, Bill, and Sam all know better by now than to bring up personal shit in the office. Since it's mid-week, I tell Bill the he can leave around two; that I can handle any showings that walk in. Alcide is busy doing something with the pool at the clubhouse and Sam is off with the landscapers. All alone, I kill some time with filing and running some credit checks on prospective residents.

Right before closing, I shut down my computer and get ready to leave. Before I can leave the office though, I see a tall police officer in my peripheral vision. Wondering what was going on, I turned to give him my full attention. Holy hell... I never knew that navy blue polyester could be so damn attractive. It hugged Eric's form to decadent perfection.

"Office North" tells me that he had heard of some break-ins in the area and that it was looking like an "inside job". For thoroughness, he was going to need to search me to see if anything that was stolen was on my person. Needless to say, my frisking becomes a strip search and my desk will need to be cleaned and reorganized when I come in the next day.

He leaves before I do, but meets me at home in his suit. As much as I love the role-playing, since it lets us blow off some steam, it's a band-aid on a chest wound. We keep trying for a year. Things go great for weeks, before another fight would explode. I know we couldn't last the way we were going and after the last fight, and things are said that no amount of role-play would fix, I file for divorce.

Eric tries to fight me. He is convinced that we could get over it, get back to how we were before. I know that it isn't going to happen. We love each other, true enough, but love just isn't enough sometimes. Once he gives up contesting the filing, we split everything and go through with the divorce.

But the love and passion are still there. Those never left. We still want each other like crazy, but neither of us knows how to approach the other without starting something all over again. I decide to make plans for a night with no strings, no pasts... just a night where we can be strangers.

I send Eric a letter to his office, outlining my plan. I know when he gets it, because he calls to argue, saying if we're going to do this, just to do it as us. I explain that we aren't going to get back together. We bicker back and forth until finally he sees my side and agrees to give it a try.

I dress with care after work. I pull a soft gray skirt suit out of my closet and a strawberry red cami to wear underneath. Eric loves my boobs and can't help but stare when they're on display. I drive to a neighborhood bar conveniently across the street from a hotel. The bartender fixes me a gin and tonic while I sit and wait anxiously.

His long lean frame fills my vision when he walks in with a cocky grin. He takes his time getting to me, and I love every second I watch him sway around other customers to approach the bar.

"Hi, is uh... is this seat taken?"

**A/N: So there you go. If you HAVEN'T read FNB, I recommend reading with a bag of ice on hand because **

**D-A-M-N! Reviews are love, especially while I try to recover from _Deadlocked_.**


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